Desperate Times
by DinerGuy
Summary: 2018 reboot. Rick grunted at the pain the effort cost him, but he just doubled down and threw himself forward. Get clear of the car—get Thomas clear of the car—and worry about the rest later.


_A/N: __I need more interactions between just the guys, please and thanks._

_Standard disclaimers apply._

* * *

Smoke.

That was the first thing to register as Rick slowly came to. The acrid smell stung his nostrils and tickled his throat. When he coughed, it sent spirals of pain through his chest and stomach, and he realized more might be wrong than just the smoke.

He wasn't sure why he was being so slow to process things. Something was telling him it was a very bad thing to be smelling smoke and that he probably needed to be worried about it. Still, it took much longer than it should have to bring himself to open his eyes.

His head moved from vaguely hurting to _pounding _the minute he forced his eyes open, and he groaned as the pain flared up. Taking a deep, careful breath, he slowly looked around. His vision was blurry, but he blinked a few times and slowly brought his surroundings into focus.

He saw the dashboard in front of him, airbag deployed, and let his gaze drift up to take in the spiderwebbed crack of the windshield. Everything was still hazy, though, and he couldn't make out much beyond it. But he could still smell smoke, which, combined with the fact that he'd apparently been in a car crash, spelled trouble. He needed to get out _now._

Then something next to him shifted, and Rick realized there was someone else in the car. At that realization, the memories suddenly came flooding back, and he closed his eyes at the rush of mental images. The shore road… the other car drifting into their lane with no warning… Thomas's attempt to swerve just a little too late… the impact from the other vehicle sending the Ferrari spinning… the metal barrier just past the shoulder of the road.

Rick sucked in a shallow breath, wincing as even that aggravated his side, and fumbled to undo his seatbelt. "Thomas?" He coughed.

"Yeah, right here," his friend's pained voice came in response.

"You okay, man?"

There was a pause, then, "Honestly? Not exactly."

The blurriness affecting Rick's vision had thankfully receded to the edges, and he took as deep of a breath as he could manage before sitting up enough to look over at the driver's seat.

Even in the dim light of dusk, he could tell something was wrong. He couldn't put his finger on what, exactly—his head was still killing him—but the way Thomas's eyes were half-closed and the blood smeared on the airbag that had deployed from the steering wheel did not make for a good combination.

The smoke seemed stronger now, and Rick coughed again. "Do you smell that?" he asked.

Thomas nodded, and his eyes flicked toward the windshield.

Following his friend's gaze, Rick realized the smoke was coming from the car itself. Which was definitely not good. "Okay, we need to get out. Can you move?"

"Give me a second," the other man replied hoarsely.

Rick swallowed and took another breath and then tried to take stock of his injuries. Pounding headache, not good, but at least he didn't seem to be having too much trouble processing what was going on. He reached up to prod at his head for any open wounds, but he didn't find any. Okay, that was good. He must've just bumped his head somehow when they'd crashed, which explained the blacking out.

Aching shoulders and back… well, aching everything, but nothing seemed to be broken. Also not ideal but good considering the circumstances.

Rick reached for the door handle then, wincing as his shoulder protested but pushing through it. If there was smoke, there was no question about waiting for rescue; they needed to get out of the car right away. He managed to stumble out onto the asphalt and glanced around the area.

It was deserted. Whoever had hit them had sped off, and there were no other people in sight. Just great.

"Looks like your next client might just be us," he remarked with a half-grin, turning toward where he expected Thomas to be climbing out of the car beside him. But he didn't see his friend. "Thomas?" Rick called, hurrying around to the driver's side. "You okay?"

The only reply was an exhausted grunt, and Rick quickly took stock of the situation in front of him. Thomas was clearly in pain, and Rick could see the blood running down the left side of his face. The car had hit the barrier almost head-on, but, while Rick's side of the vehicle seemed to have impacted with just the horizontal bars of the fence, Thomas's had also hit one of the solid vertical posts. The corner of the Ferrari had been crushed inward, and something in the jumble of metal seemed to be trapping the other man's left leg.

"I can't get out." Thomas's gaze was loose and unfocused as he blinked at Rick.

"All right. It's okay," Rick told him, putting a light hand on his shoulder. "We'll get you out."

Just then, in the worst timing ever, there was a low _whoosh_ from somewhere under the front of the car.

Rick rushed over to the hood and quickly searched for the source of it, then dropped to his hands and knees to look at the undercarriage. His stomach flip-flopped at his sudden movement, but he just ignored it. There would be time enough for worrying about himself later. Right now, the most worrying thing was the faint orange glow he could see. That certainly explained the smoke.

"Come on, we have to move!" Rick hurried to yank the door open. "Fire," he added in explanation.

Thomas frowned slowly. "Rick… I…"

They didn't have time for this, and Rick knew it. There was no way they could wait for rescue, not with fire in the car.

"Okay, let's get you out of here," he said aloud, surveying the mangled mess of metal. He quickly identified the piece that was the most likely culprit and grabbed the edge of it.

Thomas hissed in pain as Rick began to pull at the wreckage. "Careful!"

Stopping for a moment, Rick studied his friend's face. "I'm sorry; I know it's going to hurt, but I have to do it."

"Yeah…" Thomas nodded and clenched his jaw. "I know. Just do it." He squeezed his eyes shut as Rick started attempting to move things again.

With a lot of effort that his injured muscles did not appreciate at all, Rick managed to shift the thin piece of metal aside. He could hear his friend grunting in pain but ignored it, knowing he was doing the only thing he could. Then he leaned forward, panting, to see what else might be in the way. In the darkness, he could just make out a larger piece of twisted wreckage, and he clenched his hands around it and tugged.

"Ah!" He yanked away, feeling the agonizing sting of his sliced palm. The edge of the metal must have been sharper than he'd thought.

"Rick?"

But the smell of smoke was stronger now, and Rick knew he couldn't worry about himself right then. At the moment, Thomas was all that mattered.

"Don't worry about me," Rick replied, ignoring the way he could hear his voice wavering. He clenched his teeth and grabbed the metal again, throwing all of his strength into yanking it upward.

Rick heard his friend's yell of pain mix with his own as agony coursed through his hands, but he shoved it all to the back of his mind. Several long moments later, he felt something in the wreckage give, and the tension on the piece he was holding released so fast he stumbled back a few steps.

Dropping the metal, Rick wiped his hands on his pants, barely managing to muffle his yelp of pain as the friction stung his injured palms.

"Come on!" Rick reached over and unsnapped the seatbelt still holding Thomas in place and grabbed his friend's arm. "Let's go!" The smell of fire was intensifying, and Rick knew they were on borrowed time at this point.

Rick grunted at the pain the effort cost him, and he could hear similar groans from his friend next to him. But he just doubled down and threw himself forward. Get clear of the car—get his injured friend clear of the car—and worry about the rest later.

They'd made it about a dozen yards before the Ferrari erupted in flame.

The force of the blast threw them both forward and Rick felt himself tumbling and skidding across the ground, the heat nearly searing his back even at his current distance.

Shaking his head to clear it, Rick looked around frantically for Thomas. He spotted him a second later, sprawled in the dirt and struggling to get up. The injured man wasn't getting very far, and Rick shoved to his feet and scrambled over to him.

"Come on, T.M." He grabbed the back of Thomas's shirt and hauled him up, grabbing the other man around the waist for support. "You got this; come on."

He helped Thomas across the road to a clump of trees and guided the other man down to a seated position. Panting at the exertion, Rick sank down next to him and then fumbled to pull out his cell phone. They needed help—and fast, judging by the look on his friend's face.

Digging out the device, Rick quickly pressed the emergency call button. The bloody thumbprints he was leaving on the screen made him frown, but his head hurt too much to concentrate. There was nothing he could do about it right then anyway.

The operator assured him she would send help immediately, and Rick gulped a sigh of relief. The world was starting to spin now, and he barely heard the sound of the voice coming through his phone's speaker as it asked if he was okay. He thought he managed to mumble out a reply before his hand holding the phone slipped down to his lap.

"Oh man," he heard Thomas mutter beside him.

Rick slowly glanced over and saw his friend staring at the now-blazing car. Despite the way everything hurt, he couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's next words.

"Higgy's going to kill me."

* * *

_Fin._


End file.
